


Blood and Fire

by Nerdanel



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: BDSM, Blood Drinking, Collars, Gags, I'm so sorry, M/M, Smut, Switching, There is no plot, Toys, Vampires, erotic asphyxiation, now with a helping of crack, safe words, sort of complete
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdanel/pseuds/Nerdanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of interconnected oneshots about Rai and Frankenstein embarking on a BDSM journey, written mostly to amuse myself and now being presented here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His fingers are gentle even as the rope tightens around his wrist. It’s silk and it does not chafe, but it presses into his skin nonetheless and will leave a mark by the time they are done. The susurration of fabric against his skin makes his spine tingle in anticipation.

 

The movements above him are deliberate in their intensity and precision and by the time all the cords are tight, Frankenstein is more than a little hard. Breathless and straining. Red eyes flicker to his, questioning, and Frankenstein has to remember how to reassure his Master mentally.

 

He’s not allowed to speak, after all. What with a gag in his mouth and all.

 

But that is something he has requested himself, just so Raizel cannot blame himself. Besides, their mental link functions better than vocal communication and he can transmit everything he feels to his Master, offering and surrendering every last bit of desire and pleasure to his feet.

 

For his _consumption_ , only to be devoured in turn by his own.

 

Raizel does not speak either as he unbuttons Frankenstein’s clothes. Parts them with his hand and traces the contours and ridges of Frankenstein’s chest, tracing all the ribs and hard muscle of his abdomen. He wants those fingers on his chest, he wants them to put clamps on his nipples to see if pain excites him, when caused by _these_ hands, but he refrains.

 

Raizel climbs over him, resting his weight on Frankenstein’s lap and presses warm kisses to his neck, nipping and soothing alternatively with his teeth and tongue. The air grows thin around Frankenstein, making it hard to draw breath and his vision darkens. The bonds that hold him down cut into his flesh as he bucks up, wanting more contact but not allowed to ask. Or beg. All he can do is silently plead with his Master to give him more.

 

And he is denied.

 

Because that is how it is supposed to be, and his Master understands. He’ll give Frankenstein what he needs, all in due time. He brushes away Frankenstein’s impatience in his mind and marks his neck with soft bites, enjoying himself to the fullest. His pleasure mounts, albeit not as fast as he’d like, as his Master lavishes attention to every part of him. Their souls brush together, touching everywhere, so it’s no wonder that his Master wants to recreate the experience in flesh.

 

It only stops being endearing when that graceful mouth descends upon his erection, those sharp teeth hidden away somehow and that tongue pressed against the underside of his cock. For a moment, Frankenstein is afraid that he has broken through the bonds and gotten up. A hand reaches out then, holding him in place, calming him despite the pleasure that threatens to burst at the seams.

 

Frankenstein spends all his energy on breathing, in and out, through his nose as his mouth is stuffed with a silken handkerchief, serving as a gag. He regrets, for a moment, asking for it because he wants to cry out his pleasure, let it out somehow or else he’ll – he will...

 

Raizel lets go of him, making Frankenstein let out a stifled groan of displeasure and within moments, concerned claret eyes boring into his and Frankenstein remembers the terms of their arrangement. He closes his eyes and reaches deep inside, following the link of their bond that connects them so, and shows how he feels to Raizel. He does not regret the gag, not really, but the inability to vocalise the sensations wracking through his body has him overwhelmed.

 

Elegant fingers pry the cloth from his mouth and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. Because this is his Master, he knows how to walk the fine line between what Frankenstein says he wants and what he _truly_ wants. Master takes great pains to understand everything Frankenstein says or does, gauging from verbal and non-verbal communication as to what he desires at an exact moment.

 

There are no words to describe how cherished it makes him feel.

 

“Forgive me, Master, I – ”

 

Raizel shakes his head, cutting him off and resumes his ministrations, robbing Frankenstein of his contrition and higher reasoning abilities in one fell swoop. But it’s all right, not like he really needed those things _anyway_.


	2. Chapter 2

Frankenstein looks over the vast array of products displayed tastefully – and for what kind of a shop it is, they manage to be as sophisticated as possible. He catalogues all the sizes and makes, the various colours with their varied adornments. In the end, he settles for a plain one, dark and unassuming, and hopes that his Master will like it.

 

He doesn’t. Or rather, it will be more accurate to say that he doesn’t quite grasp the concept and as a result, he is not very keen on it.

 

“Master,” he begins respectfully. “It’s not what you think it is.”

 

Raizel turns the thing around with his fingers and his brow furrows. “But this is a – ”

 

Frankenstein goes on his knees – and because of their recent liaisons, this oft-repeated action has an entirely new thrill in it – and places his hands over Raizel’s, covering them and holding them gently. “I know.” He smiles. “But that’s not what it’s about.”

 

“It is a tool to control, to display my ownership,” Raizel states flatly. “I do not own you, Frankenstein.”

 

“No,” Frankenstein admits. “But I am yours, anyway. You have not taken anything from me, Master. I have simply given you all of me.”

 

The distressed look does not fade from Raizel’s countenance. Frankenstein doesn’t expect it to, either. He pries the collar from Raizel’s fingers and unbuckles it, straightening it out and lays it on the side. His Master looks at him – the line of his mouth softens and the severe look in his eyes fades, giving way to the usual affection and warmth. Frankenstein feels a twinge of guilt. A small one.

 

“This is a proof of my trust in you. The way you control me with your seal, what is it but a promise on my honour?” He says, curling his fingers in his hair and twisting it into a loose bun as he speaks. He’s baring his throat, and he knows that his Master _knows_ the significance of his actions. “The seal cannot be seen with eyes, but this can be. When I am with you, like this I want to _see_ a physical proof of what you mean to me. And what I mean to you. And by that,” he hastens to add, because his Master’s eyes widen in alarm at his choice of words. “It’s that you are responsible for my actions and my person. My brain resides in this body, and my heart still beats in it, but my soul is yours and it is your will that moves me.”

 

“Do you relish the idea of losing your will, Frankenstein?” Raizel asks, his face a blank mask, but Frankenstein isn’t unaware of what troubled waters lay underneath that.

 

“No,” he says, holding Raizel’s hands again and interlacing their fingers together. “It’s not that I have no will. It’s that your will and mine have become one. It means that I’m no longer alone, will never be alone as long as you will have me, so none of my actions impact only me. They also impact you.”

 

There is silence after his declaration, but it’s neither strained nor uncomfortable. His Master has heard him and whatever he feels about it, he won’t disagree with Frankenstein further, for his eyes are lowered in contemplation and his gaze rests on the contentious object.

 

Frankenstein lifts and places it in his hands, bending forward to expose his neck.

 

A beat, or two, and then Raizel takes the collar and coils it around Frankenstein’s neck, pushing the buckle into place and tightening it gently. Frankenstein can breathe with ease, but if his Master were to push his fingers inside, he knows he will choke a little. Desire pools in his gut as the Noblesse graces him with a collar, a proof that he can ask for anything and receive, as long as it’s in the power of his Master to _give_. And Frankenstein takes and takes until the hollow inside his chest is full of Raizel alone.

 

He pushes his own fingers on the inside of his new collar, feeling the leather warm against his skin. He can smell it, almost taste it, just like he can taste his Master’s delight as he realises how happy he has made Frankenstein. It is so _simple_ to please his Master.

 

He lifts his neck, reaches up to capture those lips to show his gratitude and gratefulness for accepting him, just as his Master cradles him close, trying to desperately to show his regard and consideration. It’s a mutual thing, after all, this connection of theirs. What he really wants is for Raizel to sink his fingers into his skin, rob him of his breath, take his body as he does, and brand him forever with his claim. He wants so, _so_ badly for Raizel to sink deep and hard inside him, ignite the fire inside him and scorch everything unnecessary away.

 

What Frankenstein wants is baptism by way of blood and fire, and _this_ is the next best thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about this one, guys. I know you came here to have a good time and get crack instead. *hangs head in shame* I'll make up for it next time!

Frankenstein is working in the lab when he notices Tao walk in. He turns his face a little to acknowledge him and then resumes compiling the stream of data running through his program. It’s a vast collection of information he has gathered on his Master’s condition and various possible cures, and he’s running it through a software he has designed himself. It may just help him figure out a way to prolong Raizel’s life, though he knows better than to hope at this point.

 

Tao opens his mouth, and then shuts it with an audible click. Frankenstein glances at him again, eyebrow raised in question, and is a little surprised to notice the way Tao’s eyes are as big as saucers in his face. His eyebrow ascends higher and he tilts his head further, wondering what’s bothering Tao so much.

 

Tao does not answer. He just shakes his head and backs out of the room on tiptoes without turning around. This would have been considered as bizarre behaviour for anyone other than Tao, so Frankenstein lets it be.

 

* * *

 

 

“Guys,” Tao says gravely, taking his seat between Takeo and M-21. “There’s something about our Boss that I need to tell you.”

 

Takeo looks up from his cup of coffee and stares at Tao inquisitively. M-21 ignores him.

 

“I saw caught him doing something _really_ indecent.”

 

“Indecent?” Takeo echoes, perplexed. M-21 still doesn’t seem like he wants to join into the discussion, focusing all his attention on his precious nail file instead. _Tao_ had been the one to buy him that one – how ungrateful!

 

Tao nods fervently and vibrates in his chair, from excitement or something, he cannot quite tell himself. “Yes, he was wearing a collar!”

 

M-21 sputters, drops his file and glares balefully at Tao. Takeo is adorably confused. Tao swears he can see question marks popping above his head.

 

“A collar?” Takeo asks, as if he’s not hearing this right. “What’s indecent about collars? Even our shirts have collars...?”

 

“No, no, not _that_ kind of a collar.”

 

“Then what kind of collar are you talking about?”

 

“Like,” Tao hums, trying to think of an example. “Like a dog’s collar.”

 

Takeo looks flabbergasted now. “Why is Frankenstein wearing a dog’s collar?”

 

“Not a _dog’s_ collar actually, but _like_ one,” Tao explains, frustrated a little that Takeo doesn’t seem to get it. Just how innocent can he be?

 

“Why is the house owner wearing a dog’s collar?” A new voice pops up from behind, startling the trio badly enough that M-21 drops his nail file. _Again_. And he had been steadfastly ignoring his idiotic teammates so well until now, too!

 

“Regis!” Tao exclaims, then slaps a hand on his mouth.

 

“Tao, explain yourself. Why would _that_ man put on a dog’s collar?” Regis is starting to look a little peeved.

 

“It’s not really a dog’s collar,” Tao repeats himself, feeling a flush creep on his neck. “But you shouldn’t be listening to this.”

 

Regis’ displeasure deepens, if anything. “Why not?”

 

“Well, you’re a – student?” Tao offers, flailing his arms as if that explains everything. In his eyes, it does though.

 

“Need I remind you,” Regis says, turning up his nose and reproducing one of his haughtiest expressions. “I am one hundred and ninety nine years old. Much, much older than you lot put together.”

 

“Number Three,” Tao says, his voice full of appeal. “If your Grandpa found out what we’re talking about, he will _slaughter_ us.”

 

Now it’s Regis’ turn to look completely shocked. And appalled. A bit affronted too. “Nonsense, the Clan Leader would _never_.”

 

Fortunately, the commotion in the living room attracts Seira to the spot. She looks at the tense faces and glances at the trio, waiting for one of them to explain. Tao opens his mouth, but Regis beats him to it. Unfortunately.

 

“Seira, Tao says that the house owner has been going around wearing a dog collar,” he says, then catching Tao’s eye, he amends hastily, “I mean, something like a dog’s collar.”

 

Seira’s eyes widen a fraction and Tao can feel his life draining away, the moment anyone from Lukedonia hears of _any_ of this. He gesticulates wildly, trying to distract everyone from his immense fuck-up.

 

“Miss Seira, it’s nothing important, but we think this discussion is not fit for Regis’ ears. If you would be so kind to escort him somewhere else. For the time being?”

 

Seira gives him a measuring look. Then she nods and turns to Regis, and little Regis seems to deflate under her gaze though the look on his face is mutinous. He throws a dirty look at Tao, conveying his intention to get back at Tao at the first opportunity he can find, and follows Seira out of the room.

 

“Right,” Tao says, clasping his hands together and leaning back on the couch, feeling more tired than ever. “Where was I?”

 

“The collar,” Takeo prompts. He is one of the few people who can put up with Tao’s antics, and Tao is glad to have him by his side. To still show interest in a situation that has rapidly escalated into a political scandal? Well, Takeo is a true friend.

 

“I guess it’s better if I show you,” Tao says, sighs, and turns on his laptop. He types in the appropriate (or inappropriate, depending upon how the situation is) words and turns the screen towards his teammates. Tao does an exclamatory dance and points at the screen, gesturing at the various images. Even M-21 is looking and his usual disaffected expression is replaced by one of dawning horror.

 

“That looks like a dog collar to me, but why are these people wearing such a thing?” Takeo asks after a long pause. His cheeks are a little red because of how scantily-clad some of those people are, but he’s still trying to stay on topic. “And why would Frankenstein want to wear one?”

 

“Wear _what_?”

 

Tao’s life flashes before his very eyes – it has been brief, but he has had some really great friends and companions. He doesn’t regret it one bit. Wait, no, actually, he does. He does not want to die like this!

 

“B-Boss, didn’t hear you come in!” He laughs nervously and is about to shut the computer screen down that he notices that Frankenstein _is still wearing the damn collar_.

 

“Frankenstein,” M-21 is the next to speak, and to his credit, his voice is only mildly perturbed. “Why are you wearing that?”

 

“What?” Frankenstein asks, arching an elegant eyebrow.

 

There are signs of exhaustion on his face, dark circles under his vibrant blue eyes – now dulled by over-exertion, and he seems to droop a little from where he stands. The state of his Boss ends up sobering Tao a little. He’s about to dissuade his teammates from speaking of that matter to Frankenstein. So the man was into that kind of lifestyle – who cares? His interest had stemmed from his natural curiosity and mischievous nature, but to disturb Frankenstein right now seemed improper somehow.

 

However, before he can distract them, M-21 speaks again – damn him: “Frankenstein, why are you wearing a collar?”

 

Ah. Understanding dawns on Frankenstein’s face, and the exhaustion is replaced by a soft, sweet sort of look that disturbs Tao more than the signs of his humanity did. Frankenstein’s fingers automatically fly up to finger at his collar – it seems like a habit already, so how long has this been going on? – and his touch is delicate, reverent, as if it’s not a sleek leather collar but a chain wrought of most precious diamonds in this world.

 

But it’s a chain _, isn’t_ it?

 

“Because my Master has bestowed it upon me,” Frankenstein says, still smiling that awfully sweet smile. It churns unpleasantly in Tao’s guts. “On my audacious request.”

 

That is far more than he’d _ever_ wanted to know.

 

“But...why?” This time it’s Takeo, leaning forward a little and his face is still coloured with a rosy hue. “Why would you do that?”

 

“Do you really want to know?” Frankenstein asks and there’s so much sincerity in his words that Tao has no choice but to take action.

 

“No, no, _no_ , we’re fine, actually! I get it! I’ll explain it to them!”

 

“Really? Will you?” Frankenstein smiles again, but there’s a hint of faint malice in his smile and he can practically see the crackling, purpling aura engulfing his Boss’ body. This should have been a welcome sight, compared to that saccharine smile, but it can never be.

 

“Y-yes?” He ventures, feeling his boldness slip through his hands like quicksand.

 

“Go on, then,” Frankenstein says and takes a seat opposite them. “I’d like to hear too.”

 

Tao bites the inside of his cheek and curses the thrice-damned bastard that he loves and cares about the most, perhaps. Well, even if he loves him, he’s not going to take this lying down. Not by a far shot.

 

* * *

 

Next morning, Frankenstein walks down to the living room and intends to wish his Master good morning, before starting on tea and breakfast for them. However, his attention is arrested when he notices the strange look on his Master’s face. Worry immediately clouds his mind and he strides forward, hackles raised.

 

“Master, what’s wrong?” He asks, trying not to let panic overwhelm him.

 

His Master looks so distressed that it’s painful to look at. When Frankenstein is near enough, he notices that the cause of the said distress is a bulky book lying open upon the table in front of his Master. And the way his Master looks at it is as if it is going to bite him in the leg, should he as much as avert his eyes. Raizel must have been reading that during his night-time study hours, so _why_ –

 

“Frankenstein—” There’s a plaintive note in Raizel’s normally composed voice. “What is an _Inner Goddess_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I'm so sorry about that joke at the end, but that's what spawned this entire chapter, sooooo.~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to wash out the taste of the last chapter. Pls enjoy, I'm v. tired, so it's a teeny-tiny update!

When it’s all over, the first thing Rai always does is to make sure Frankenstein is lying down comfortably enough. He fetches a soft towel from the closet and wipes Frankenstein down with, starting with his face, his cheeks, his throat and then his chest. He always makes sure to be as gentle as possible, even more so than he usually is. He knows Frankenstein’s body is highly sensitive at this point and even a little pressure can overwhelm him.

 

Frankenstein does not refuse him. He barely speaks, just lying there with a content smile on his face and letting Rai do whatever he wants. In the beginning, he had protested to Rai taking care of him after such a thing, but Rai has learnt – through unfortunate experience – that respecting Frankenstein’s wishes too much led to him getting sick.

 

He cradles Frankenstein’s head in his palm, brushing away sweaty blond locks away from his face and presses his lips to the damp forehead. Frankenstein arches into his touch, quite like a cat, and makes a soft pleased noise. Rai takes this as a sign to keep going. He presses a few tender kisses to Frankenstein’s face, exploring that face with his lips for several moments. He only moves away later, reluctantly, and continues cleaning Frankenstein’s body up – it’s mostly sweat and some bodily fluids and he knows how much Frankenstein values cleanliness.

 

His hands hover for a moment between Frankenstein’s legs – it feels strange to touch him here, even now, when they are not in the middle of doing intimate things to each other – but he has to. He _wants_ to. His touch is feather light when he cleans Frankenstein’s lower body, slides his hands down those thighs – remembers them being wrapped around his middle and _blushes_.

 

Once he reaches the feet, he puts the towel away and presses Frankenstein’s toes with his fingers, massaging them gently, tracing the soles of his feet and pushing the tips of his fingers into the spots he knows Frankenstein likes best. He’s rewarded with a groan. Rai brightens and rubs Frankenstein’s feet for a little while longer than necessary. He knows Frankenstein won’t mind too much.

 

Next is to remove the silk threads that bind Frankenstein – he insists on them from time to time, and Rai realises that he has grown to like them, too. It gives him the impression of having Frankenstein completely under his care, knowing he can do whatever he wants, and then not doing anything to hurt him. Frankenstein has entrusted his everything, so Rai can do nothing but cherish him in every single moment thereafter.

 

He unwinds the material around Frankenstein’s ankles, noting with a little regret at the slightly chafed skin that is revealed underneath. He knows, however, that Frankenstein values those marks. He has seen Frankenstein press his lips to similar marks on his wrists, he has seen Frankenstein soften with love and adoration – it is something Frankenstein values, and Rai will not deny him that.

 

Frankenstein curls his legs around Rai’s body once he can move them and Rai wraps an arm around Frankenstein’s torso to pull him close. He undoes the ties on Frankenstein’s wrists as well, brings them up to his lips and kisses the marked skin there. It’s hot under his touch and Rai wants to press his face into his, to cradle it close and never let go.

 

The effortlessly untouchable Frankenstein is never more fragile than he is, in this very moment, and Rai protects him. Guards him with his life.

 

And this time, Frankenstein lets him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Does this not please you, Master? To hold my very life in your hands?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, wow. Lovely [qdeanna](http://qdeanna.tumblr.com/) drew me an absolutely gorgeous piece to go along with these BDSM musings of mine. To say I'm flattered doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm still like, wow. You can find it [here](http://qdeanna.tumblr.com/post/141133452295/something-quick-and-messy-based-on-daylight-star).
> 
> This chapter is mostly a continuation of the collar thing because, ahhh, how can I not?

“What,” Raizel asks, pressing the post of the belt through the hole close enough to Frankenstein’s skin to nip it. “Is the purpose of this?”

 

Frankenstein glances up slightly, his hair pulled into a bun and his body completely unclothed. He’s kneeling at Raizel’s feet, though the context is completely different from usual. It’s already hard to breathe – the collar tight enough to bruise his throat, and Frankenstein likes it. He likes it _so_ much that he’s achingly hard and begging for attention within moments.

 

“Master,” he says, voice throaty and raw. Need drips from every syllable and it’s embarrassing even in this state.

 

Raizel’s fingers rest below the edge of the collar, brushing tenderly against the upraised flesh. His eyes are concerned and his mouth curves ever downwards, radiating displeasure. His Master is not happy. And yet it’s warmth that bleeds into his chest even as the air slowly vacates his lungs and no matter how hard he tries to breathe, he’s always left gasping.

 

He rubs his face against Raizel’s wrist, eyes closed in contentment and satisfaction. He cannot even draw a breath without Raizel’s permission – what can be the highest form of surrender than this? His life has belonged to Raizel for a long time, but to stand on the knife-edge of madness, the very breath stolen from his body, and the only things that keeps him from tumbling off is Raizel.

 

If that’s not perfection, Frankenstein knows nothing of it.

 

“Frankenstein,” Raizel says, calls for him in an insistent voice. Worry threads through his tone and sneaks inside Frankenstein’s skin, bleeding Raizel’s love for him directly inside.

 

Frankenstein’s eyes flutter open and he gives Raizel his best smile: languorous and completely at ease. He takes in another half-breath, another moment lost to the knowledge of his belonging.

 

“Does this not please you, Master? To hold my very life in your hands?”

 

“Please? I have no desire to cause you –”

 

“This does not hurt me,” Frankenstein says patiently. He takes Raizel’s hand and places it on his chest, to show him how steady and relaxed his heartbeat is. The keenness of his pleasure is derived not from the knowledge that he is so close to death. No, it’s from the fact that Raizel won’t let him die.

 

Raizel does not allow him to die.

 

Frankenstein’s life is Raizel’s most precious possession, if he _can_ be a possession – and Raizel holds it (him) with enough reverence to shame the saints.

 

“Does it not please you, Master?” Frankenstein asks, feels his throat rasp and throb and he shuts his eyes again. Shudders. It’s almost hard to speak because of the light-headedness.

 

Raizel cups his face, presses his fingers in the small hollow below Frankenstein’s cheekbones and stares right into his eyes, all intent and concentration.

 

“It pleases me to have your trust,” he says and those words are worth more than Frankenstein can assimilate.

 

It overflows, spilling forth as he shakes, trembles against Raizel’s hold and comes untouched.

 

The belt is pulled free and set aside and Raizel pushes him into the soft bed, climbing atop. Frankenstein goes down, completely boneless and unresisting and simply holds on as Raizel soothes the indentation left by the dark leather, licking and massaging the sore flesh that he has caused himself.

 

And later, when Raizel makes love to him, it’s tender enough to _bruise_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should go to bed. :


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there are days like these.

And then there are days like these, where Raizel comes to him. The house is empty: Regis and Seira are visiting Lukedonia, Tao, Takeo and M-21 are having a night out – they have gotten smarter about giving Frankenstein and Raizel some space. Nothing makes so much as whisper of a sound, no laughter of children, the bang and clink of pots and pans, the smell of food and lights in every corner of the house that holds so many people.

 

There is only silence and his Master.

 

The very same Master who now stands in front of him, having abandoned his studies for the night and has shed the coat of his uniform. Loosened his collar; taken off his shoes and socks.

 

There is darkness in Frankenstein’s room, but Raizel’s eyes can be seen even in the low light.

 

Frankenstein makes space for him wordlessly, getting off the bed and letting Raizel climb in. He walks to his closet, chooses the items he wants with great deliberation – this is for Raizel’s sake, nothing but the best would do. By the time he has made his selection, Raizel is lying atop Frankenstein’s sheets, his shirt also gone and he looks at Frankenstein with a silent intensity that makes the air in the room rarefied.

 

Sex doesn’t need to be a part of this, but Frankenstein always finds it difficult to separate the two when Raizel is like this.

 

It’s the only time and the _only way_ he’s willing to let Frankenstein lift the burden from his shoulders, put it aside and not allow him to think of anything. He cannot share the weight of the Noblesse’s responsibilities. He cannot do _anything_. But if he’s allowed this one thing, he grabs it with his both hands, not letting it go.

 

He ties the long soft cloth around Raizel’s eyes first, lifting his head gently and tying it securely behind his head, making sure the knot doesn’t tangle into Raizel’s hair. He gathers Raizel’s slender wrists, lifts them above his head and ties them together – again, making sure he doesn’t cause Raizel any discomfort. He always makes sure to take a long time in doing this because it’s his Master, and his Master values Frankenstein’s thoroughness and attention to detail.

 

Even when he’s like this, he appreciates Frankenstein’s hard work.

 

He flips Raizel so he’s lying on his stomach and secures his tied wrists to the bedpost. He bends down, resting his weight on Raizel’s back and murmurs into his ear, low and warm, “Master. What would you like me to do?”

 

For the first time, Raizel seems to react – until now he has been a completely passive observer as if whatever Frankenstein does with his body isn’t any of his business. He flexes his fingers, tugs on the cord that binds him, and moves beneath Frankenstein’s weight.

 

He opens his mouth a little, then closes it and buries his face in Frankenstein’s pillow. Frankenstein understands, nonetheless. It is hard for Raizel to voice his demands that aren’t simple, material comforts, and this is one of the things that he finds it especially difficult to ask for. He’s the Noblesse – he just can’t abandon the role he has taken in life. He’s responsible for the protection of the Nobles; he’s supposed to uphold the very ideal of Nobility – there is no way he can allow anyone to observe in a moment of vulnerability.

 

The Noblesse isn’t allowed a moment of weakness, or the desire for comfort. He is power personified and power needs no support.

 

So what if the symbol of true power is desperately, unbearably lonely?

 

Frankenstein covers his body with his own, lets his warmth soak into Raizel’s body until all the emptiness inside this being is permeated by Frankenstein’s presence. He wants to sink into Raizel just as he wants Raizel to sink into him. It’s such a mutual need, so it’s a wonder sometimes Raizel doesn’t understand. Or he does, perhaps, but does not understand why Frankenstein would want _him_.

 

He traps Raizel underneath his own body, shielding him from the world, from the title he bears with great solemnity, crowds all of his senses with himself, and for a few moments, at least, wants to become Raizel’s entire world.

 

“Is this all right, Master?”

 

Raizel makes a displeased sound and Frankenstein immediately realises his mistake, runs a soothing hand down his flank and tucks him closer.

 

“Is this all right, Rai?” Because Rai is the name he has been given by those precious children, so he cherishes it, covets it – the ideal they hold in their mind, that’s what he wants to be the most. Frankenstein denies him the pleasure of calling him by that name, but in moments like these, he cannot deny his Master _anything_.

 

“Yes,” Raizel says, lets out a soft sigh and burrows deeper into Frankenstein’s bed.

 

And Frankenstein just cradles him closer, shutting out the rest of the world – just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching, because switching is fun~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it is, this thing stands complete. I was wondering idly that I hadn't actually written any porn for this, so...
> 
> Anyway, if anyone feels like prompting me to write more of this verse, feel free to poke me on [my tumblr](https://daylight-star.tumblr.com/). Thanks everyone for reading this far~

“Frankenstein,” Raizel puts his cup down and regards him coolly. “Why would I want to do that to you?”

 

Frankenstein smiles, knife-sharp and comes closer, restraining himself from going on his knees right away. It won’t do to put his Master off. Not yet.  “The idea,” he explains. “Is to give you the authority over my pleasure, Master. It’s all not all that different from the other, similar activities we have done.”

 

“Yes,” Raizel admits, making no move to resume his tea-drinking. “But this time I’m denying you pleasure.”

 

“That is what I mean by authority.”

 

Red eyes flick to his, the decision made. “Choose a word, Frankenstein.”

 

He suppresses a smile.

 

* * *

 

This is pure agony. Touching himself under those watchful eyes, the entire weight of Raizel’s attention holding him down until the very idea of drawing another breath sounds absurd and unnecessary. His hand speeds up, unbidden – he had meant to hold on a little longer, had meant to draw out the pleasure – and his hips move by their own accord.

 

Raizel places his hand atop Frankenstein’s, stilling it. “Stop, Frankenstein.”

 

“Yes, Master,” he says, stops and flops down on the bed unceremoniously. His body throbs in need and he ignores it. This is a conscious thought, a deliberate abandonment of control, a wilful surrender of his self.

 

Raizel gives him another lingering gaze, one that burns across his skin as surely as a caress, and then nods. Frankenstein doesn’t stop him when he walks away, nor does he resume touching himself. Just lies there, heart pounding in his throat.

 

* * *

 

Next time, it’s Raizel who takes the initiative, crowding him against the window at night when there is no one around and captures his mouth in a series of searing kisses. Time comes to a standstill as Raizel touches him with now-experienced hands and brings him to the heights of pleasure.

 

Frankenstein grinds against him, helpless and lost, clutching and creasing those immaculate clothes without a shred of remorse.

 

His own clothes stain, grow damp from the mounting need and Raizel does nothing to dissuade him, continues stroking him with his elegant fingers. _Those_ fingers, now wrapped around Frankenstein and there’s no way he can hold on –

 

The grip suddenly turns a little painful at the base and stops him from coming right then and there.

 

“M-master?” Frankenstein asks, bewildered.

 

“Did you forget already, Frankenstein?” His Master asks, and oh, _oh_.

 

“No.” He lowers his gaze, feeling a different kind of pleasure overwhelm him. He collapses against Raizel, boneless and giddy and stays there.

 

Raizel lets him.

 

* * *

 

It’s been three days and he’s about as comfortable as if children had brought twice as many snacks in the house, prepared to spread crumbs over every available surface. It’s not so bad when Raizel is there, touching him, holding him and taking care of him. But without his steadying presence, the sexual frustration – entirely voluntary – eats at him.

 

It’s an itch he’s not allowed to scratch and it’s driving him insane.

 

And he knows Raizel won’t relent, won’t stop unless Frankenstein asks him to.

 

He can always just ask, but where is the fun in that? He knows it’s a way of pushing at his Master just as much as it’s for him. But, a part of him wonders whether his Master is affected by it at all or not? Whether he sees this as fulfilling one of Frankenstein’s stranger requests and just puts up with it. He’s not unaware that his Master desires him; surely as one of the few things that he can derive pleasure from, Frankenstein probably ranks above ramyeon – he hopes.

 

It’s silly to harbour doubts when it’s about Raizel, and yet. The human part of Frankenstein, the one that continues to live even after so long, a shadow of doubt festers because he doesn’t understand why Raizel always acquiesces to his demands. Sometimes he does, but not every single time.

 

He sits down on his bed, feet tucked underneath, and stares at the door. He knows Raizel will join him in a bit – he’s still in the living room, studying diligently and doing his homework. He’s only ever heard praises about Raizel’s improving performance in school from the other teachers, even Mr. Park.

 

Yes, of course. His Master never does anything without wholehearted effort. He always gives everything his all.

 

Even when it’s something like pleasing Frankenstein.

 

His heart aches. Logically, he’s aware that sometimes surrender of so much control, to be in a scene for such a long time tended to distort a person’s thinking. Logically, he _knows_ he has no reason to doubt Raizel’s affections and love. And he doesn’t. What he doubts is his capacity to return them to Raizel’s satisfaction.

 

The door opens then and Frankenstein quietens his mind, putting on a smile for his Master.

 

He knows he hasn’t done it fast enough from the way Raizel’s mouth curls unhappily, but neither of them addresses the issue. Frankenstein simply turns around, sheds his clothes and gets on his hands and knees. His legs are splayed open and the jar of lube rests right next to the bed for Raizel’s use.

 

And use he did, pressing fingers into Frankenstein, opening him up further and making him ready. Sliding home when he’s sure that he won’t cause Frankenstein any unnecessary discomfort. His body is flush against Frankenstein’s now, any sign of distance eradicated to the point that Frankenstein cannot distinguish between the two.

 

When he moves, Frankenstein sees stars burst across his shut eyelids. He’s painfully hard and Raizel’s touch is a wonderful amalgamation of pain-pleasure. It scorches him everywhere, just as he’s always wanted it to, inside and out, all around him until he has to remember to draw a breath.

 

Raizel holds him, bears down on him and pushes against inside of him where he knows feels best and Frankenstein loses control, gasping and panting into his pillow, begging Raizel. He cannot – he really cannot take it anymore.

 

“Please,” he says, grabbing Raizel’s hand and tugging on it. “Master, _please_.”

 

“Say the word, Frankenstein,” Raizel murmurs soothingly in his hair. He slows his pace down and simply embraces him, helping him calm down until he _remembers_.

 

“Rai,” he says, clenching his eyes shut even harder and shudders against him. “Rai, please. Let me come.”

 

The effect is immediate as Raizel grabs him, strokes him to completion within a few moments. Frankenstein trembles in his arms, coming all over Raizel’s hand and the bed, coming until he’s wrung dry but his body still jerks forward in involuntary spasms.

 

Time stretches into infinity, and then contracts as his senses return to him, one by one until he’s in full possession of his faculties. He breathes through his nose, closing his mouth and wiping the drool that has escaped it. It’s then he notices that Raizel is no longer inside him, though they are still entwined together.

 

“Master?” he asks, cringing at how rough his voice sounds now.

 

“Yes?” Raizel asks, nosing at his ear and neck.

 

“You didn’t come?”

 

“It’s all right. I was satisfied by you enough. Are _you_ satisfied, though?”

 

Frankenstein blinks, thoughts momentarily scattered as Raizel mouths his pulse point. He recovers only when Raizel moves his lips away. “Yes, but –”

 

“Good, because it was very difficult for me to continue denying you.”

 

“A-ah, forgive me, Master,” he says, feeling stricken but Raizel effectively distracts him again.

 

“Your pleasure is my pleasure too, don’t forget that,” Raizel says.

 

Frankenstein can only nod, drowning as he is in the knowledge that has always been there and yet he has kept it at bay. Not now, however – and it swallows him up just as surely as he had expected it to. And it’s all right. He’s safe.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About toys and talking things out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got prompted and this is me, failing to fill them! (I still have one more prompt, which I'll fill later~)
> 
> Also, the lovely [qdeanna]() (please check out their stuff because it's ALL SO GOOD!) drew me some more [fanart](http://qdeanna.tumblr.com/post/141820605465/some-sketches-for-daylight-star-congrats-on)! Warning though: NSFW!

Raizel holds it aloft for Frankenstein’s perusal, elegant fingers curved around the base and positioned in such a way that a thing as lewd as this somehow doesn’t look _so bad_. Frankenstein has to smother a laugh anyway. He buries his face in Raizel’s leg and tries to stave off his inappropriate giggles.

 

“What is this?” Raizel asks when he’s sure that Frankenstein wouldn’t volunteer information willingly.

 

“Um,” Frankenstein clears his throat and gestures at it vaguely. “What does the shape suggest to you, Master?”

 

The colour of Raizel’s cheek darkens a little, but other than he shows no signs of being affected by it.

 

“Yes, exactly.”

 

“Why would Tao give it to us?” Raizel asks, a little more tentative than before and Frankenstein feels slightly bad for teasing his innocent Master.

 

“I’m more concerned about the quality of these goods,” Frankenstein says, sits up, and lifts a pair of handcuffs out of the box Tao has left them with. “They look expensive.”

 

“He must have used the salary you give him,” Raizel ventures, putting back the transparent glass dildo back into the box.

 

“And that’s why I can’t tell if he’s being thoughtful or an idiot.” There is undeniable fondness in Frankenstein’s tone. He acknowledges it without reserve and fingers the soft material that covers these handcuffs. He wonders how they’d look around his wrists.

 

Or around _Raizel’s_.

 

Raizel holds up another item, making sure to put it in front of Frankenstein’s line of sight and waits patiently.

 

“That’s a paddle, Master.”

 

“Isn’t this too small for a boat?” Raizel asks, running a fingertip along its length and giving Frankenstein many, _many_ ideas.

 

Except.

 

“It’s not meant to row a boat.” _His poor Master_. “It’s supposed to be used a tool for punishment. A means of inflicting pain – controlled pain, of course.”

 

Raizel drops it like it has burnt him.

 

“That can be good in certain circumstances,” says Frankenstein, picking it up from the box and smacking his palm with it. It stings, quite pleasantly so. He has a high threshold for pain, so it doesn’t bring him the requisite thrill, of course, and as such, he has never asked Raizel to inflict physical pain on his body. Besides, he’s sure that would be one of Raizel’s hard limits, even if he isn’t familiar with concept.

 

Raizel pries the paddle from his hands and puts it back in the box. Frankenstein doesn’t fight it – _cannot_ because he knows it distresses his Master. He watches as Raizel examines the box, but he cannot tell what it is from here anymore as Raizel puts his head back in his lap, and it’s too comfortable to move.

 

The next item he holds up makes Frankenstein _choke_. They are _anal beads_ , and the resultant images are enough to render him speechless for a few long moments. Raizel puts it back in without comment, correctly gauging from Frankenstein’s reaction that it’s nothing meant for his eyes.

 

That does, however, decide Frankenstein on the Tao issue, once he’s done processing it.

 

He’s going to _wring_ Tao’s neck. Just a little at least, because killing him will just be letting him off _too easy_. And Frankenstein definitely doesn’t like making things easy for anyone, not at all.

 

* * *

 

“Before you stab him half to death,” Takeo says, giving Frankenstein a wide berth and deliberately staying out of range.

 

As if Frankenstein’s range is _that_ limited.

 

“Please, at least talk to him?” M-21 prompts, grimacing. 

 

He’s the least likely to go along with Tao’s absurd schemes, so Frankenstein pauses, lets the Dark Spear recede a little and eyes Tao with enough menace in his eyes to get his meaning across.

 

“What do you think you’ve been _doing_?”

 

Tao’s fidgeting gets a little less pronounced and he sinks into a chair – as far away from Frankenstein as he can. What is with these idiots thinking that just by increasing physical distance they can escape the Dark Spear’s area of effect?

 

“I’ve been curious,” Tao admits, looking _anywhere_ except at Frankenstein.

 

“About?”

 

“Why do you do the things you do.” The admission is quieter, more sombre than he expects from Tao and it works well enough to make him forget his anger.

 

Frankenstein takes the seat opposite to him and regards him with a level stare. He has abandoned the battle stance and assumed his professor mode, hoping that it’s not too close to his scientist side. He doesn’t want to remind Tao of the past, even if he’s a little miffed at him.

 

“I – I guess I can’t explain it well. It’s just that those things are just so extreme, even when it’s _you_ , Boss,” Tao says, looking at him nervously. “Especially since it’s _you_.”

 

“I never meant to pry,” Takeo says, taking the seat next to Tao and trying to disguise just how much of that gesture is meant to shield Tao from Frankenstein. “But I have also wondered that myself.”

 

Something unfurls inside Frankenstein’s chest, expanding and growing so warm that he finds it hard to take a breath. He doesn’t let any of it show on his face, however. The mere idea that they were willing to earn his wrath because they had been _worried_? He suppresses a doting smile into his palm, pressed close to his face, and composes himself.

 

“You seem to associate submission, sexual submission specifically, with a complete loss of agency and free will.”

 

“Something along those lines, yes,” Tao says and looks at his hands folded in his lap. He seems embarrassed but he isn’t backing down.

 

“Because that’s all you have ever seen or known,” Frankenstein says sadly and takes a deep breath. “That’s not true, of course.”

 

“I guessed that – or at least, I read up about it. But I don’t get why _you_ do it.”

 

“I’m not debasing myself by submitting to my Master. I’m just giving him the physical leash around my neck, so as to speak. It has been an interesting experience.”

 

Tao blushes despite himself.

 

Frankenstein continues after giving him a moment to compose himself: “Of course, why we do it is a matter that concerns only me and my Master, but,” he concedes, “It is something that bothers you and we don’t want that.”

 

“We…don’t want you to stop, of course,” Takeo is the one who says that.

 

“And it’s really none of our business either,” M-21 joins in, looking deeply uncomfortable to even be here present for this discussion. But he won’t leave Tao to face this alone.

 

“I can’t really compare it to anything, but,” Frankenstein says and leans back, searching for the right words to explain because this is _important._ “Think of the way you guys let me perform enhancement experiments on you. Why do you think that is?”

 

“Because we want to get stronger?” M-21 says, frowning. “To protect the people important to us.”

 

“Yes, but what has made you capable of letting me to do it?” Frankenstein asks. He can’t spoonfeed him the answers, so this is as close as he can get without being _too_ patronising.

 

“Because we trust you?” Tao says, face lighting up in understanding, and it’s not just about Frankenstein’s question. Still, it’s far from perfect.

 

“Yes, and the same trust exists between me and Master. Well, it’s not the _same_ , but in essence, you can say that I can entrust my body to Master without worrying about what would happen to it.” It’s true, too, because on a fundamental level, that’s what it is. He can hand over his body to Raizel, because Raizel’s never going to let any harm come to him. And giving it to him in this context requires no expenditure of power on Raizel’s behalf, making the experience pleasant for everyone involved.

 

“Of course,” Frankenstein continues. “I also happen to enjoy it. My Master makes sure to never let me feel unworthy or humiliated. No matter what he does to me or with me, he is always so careful that I know where exactly I stand. He does all of those things on my explicit request – he wouldn’t otherwise.”

 

It’s not _just_ Takeo who is blushing now.

 

Frankenstein isn’t unaware of the slight surge of envy in their gazes also. The way they look at Frankenstein’s neck, which is bare but they can all feel the phantom presence of a black leather collar there _anyway_. Frankenstein is sure it’s not what they desire, but a connection that can exist between two people – one that runs so deep. That’s exactly what they seem to desire, even if unconsciously.

 

And Frankenstein is tempted to _show_ them. Just how pleasurable it can be, a deliberate loss of control and allowing someone else you trust absolutely to take control of your body’s most basic functions. To experience the most wonderful pleasure in the most vulnerable moments, being able to associate vulnerability with softness and not weakness, with kindness and care and not exploitation. Knowing when it is okay to relax, to give in and simply believe in someone else.

 

And to experience not having that faith violated.

 

Except, he is his Master’s and he has never had any desire for his children’s bodies. He hopes one day they’d be able to find someone as exemplary as Cadis Etrama di Raizel – as unlikely as that might be – to show them just what it means. Until then, this will have to do.

 

He pats them lightly on their shoulders, one by one, and walks away to join his Master in the living room where he is no doubt waiting. For Frankenstein and for tea. Because that is as much a part of _them_ as anything else and Frankenstein loves it so.


	9. More prompt fills!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein asks Raizel to indulge him with a vampire roleplay. It never works out the way he wants it to, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because these prompts were given by the ever lovely Laryna6, the whole thing is basically based on what we've discussed. Hope you find it somewhat acceptable!

The idea comes to him one day after work. He has just finished the mountain of pending paperwork, sorted out the administrative issues at the school and prepared the training plan for the RK members. It has been a long day and there’s nothing more than he’d like right now than some alone time with Master, and then rest.

 

The last thing on his list was to visit the library and oversee the new purchases made, and it’s there that he stumbles upon a particular book. It’s a newly printed edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, replete with a grisly cover – is it even appropriate for a school? He resists the urge to throw it away just because he’s a little touchy about that version of vampires. He can have _some_ prejudices, he supposes, considering the fact that Literature hasn’t been kind to him.

 

He does not look down the aisle where a slightly older copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein rests innocuously amongst other gothic horror books.

 

He flips the book open, thumbs across a few pages before shutting it close and placing it back on the shelf. He remembers picking up the book out of curiosity back when it had been first published, and he remembers the treatment of Lucy. He doesn’t want to dwell on it, because for all that they got wrong about vampires, the writer had managed to capture the helplessness that came from trying to deal with a victim of the mutants.

 

He has had plenty of experience with _that_.

 

He also recalls the strangely sexual nature of the blood-drinking that has sprung from the book.

 

Frankenstein pauses in his walk back to the office and looks to the side. The idea has some merit, if he can incorporate it into the things he does with his Master. He knows the Nobles don’t like drinking blood – though they are perfectly capable of doing so. And if they do, they will never directly touch them with their mouths, since there are other, cleaner ways of drawing blood.

 

The previous Lord had made sure to expound upon _that_.

 

However, the idea of his Master sneaking into his room through the window at night, taking his blood and putting him under his spell, so as to speak…

 

It’s both loathsome and intriguing and Frankenstein has never been able to resist his curiosity.

 

* * *

 

“Must I enter through the window?” Raizel asks, looking a little weary and completely unenthusiastic at the idea of climbing Frankenstein’s balcony and entering his room that way.

 

In the middle of the night, no less.

 

“No, Master, we can suspend our disbelief for that matter.”

 

Raizel gives him a look, and Frankenstein feels sheepish enough to admit, at least to himself, that that’s not the only issue here. Raizel walks towards him as he arranges himself on the bed, lying completely still and closes his eyes. His heart pounds in a panicked beat, unable to contain the excitement and nervousness, the thousand-year old fears roaring back to life under his skin.

 

His skin prickles with sweat and he wonders if Raizel can feel it. His fear and anticipation. If he cannot already, he will the moment he complies with Frankenstein’s request.

 

Frankenstein’s clothing dissolves at Raizel’s touch – when had he come _so_ close? – and the mattress dips a little under Raizel’s weight. Frankenstein has to hold his breath as Raizel’s fingers make contact with his bare skin, raising goosebumps and making him shiver.

 

Raizel shuffles closer and there’s warm breath next to his neck, a moment’s warning, and then it’s followed by sharp pain. He gasps but he does not open his eyes. He can feel the teeth break through his skin and draw blood. He can feel those lips close over the wound and the suction that drains him of his blood. The Dark Spears stirs vaguely in the back of his mind, but Raizel’s power – stronger now, since he has Frankenstein’s fresh blood in his system, so he can control him better – subdues it with nary a thought.

 

It’s not just the Dark Spear that gets subdued, however. All of Frankenstein’s senses become dull to the point that he’s no longer able to move his limbs – and it’s _terrifying_ , since he can’t even open his mouth and ask Raizel to stop, if he wanted to – and the only thing he can feel other than that is the hot-sweet pain in his neck. He can feel the warmth of his blood leave his body and go into Raizel.

 

_Does it warm him up too_?

 

If this could only nourish Raizel’s life, Frankenstein is perfectly willing to let Raizel drink him dry.

 

It feels a little like he’s dying and it’s both wonderful and awful and he never wants Raizel to stop. Is it the instinctive mind control making him think that? His will bent under the blood magic, because he’s offered it freely and Raizel has accepted his outrageous request.

 

The world grows hazy, with Raizel as the only sharp point of focus and soon enough, Frankenstein cannot even think, cannot breathe or keep his eyes open.

 

An eternity seems to pass as he finds himself slipping deeper and deeper under Raizel’s spell. Then, it stops abruptly as Raizel licks at the wound in his neck and makes it stop bleeding. His fingers slide into Frankenstein’s hair and he lifts his head gently, placing it in his lap.

 

There’s so much concern swimming in Raizel’s crimson eyes – just as red as Frankenstein’s blood – and Frankenstein aches to dispel it. That is his first conscious thought that doesn’t involve the choking terror coiling around his body, smothering him.

 

Raizel holds his wrist above Frankenstein’s mouth, looks at it intently with luminous eyes, and a gash opens in the unmarred expanse of his skin. Blood flows from it freely and drips into Frankenstein’s mouth, flooding it with the coppery taste that doesn’t seem to bother him right now. He drinks greedily, like a parched man, without any care of what the consequences may be. Raizel holds his wrist to Frankenstein’s lips then, letting him drink directly.

 

It’s not just blood that flows into his mouth – there are also Raizel’s feelings and memories inundating his mind, overpowering him. He can feel what Raizel feels, directly through his mind and blood and it’s _intoxicating_. How can someone hold that much love? How can all of it be directed towards someone like _Frankenstein_? He has felt Cadis Etrama di Raizel’s regard often ever since they formed a contract, but never like this, never experiencing it from his Master’s perspective.

 

It _destroys_ him. He’s _ruined_ because nothing can ever compare to this, and he will never feel the way he does now.

 

He grips Raizel’s slender wrist in his hands, drinking from it greedily and drowns in Raizel’s love for him. The sensation does not abate no matter how long he holds onto Raizel, and it isn’t until gentle fingers brush his hair away from his face and wake him from the trance he has fallen into that he remembers to _let go_.

 

Not even realising that he had a death grip on not just Raizel’s wrist, but also his soul, Frankenstein blushes a little and rubs where he has left marks on Raizel’s skin. Raizel kisses him, stealing any breath he may have wasted on apologies and Frankenstein melts into the kiss.

 

His Master’s mind is still open to him, his blood still flows in Frankenstein’s veins, and Frankenstein still can’t breathe. He should be dead from the lack of oxygen. He closes his eyes, shudders and makes a sound that may have been a plea and Raizel pulls him closer still.

 

He can no longer associate someone drinking blood with anything but _this_ , now. He cannot even think of a vampire without being caught up in the memory of experiencing his Master’s _love_ for him. Without losing his breath and senses at the mere memory of this. He can see himself growing weak at the knees, blood rising to his face and warmth curling in his chest at the mere thought of it.

 

He supposes it’s an acceptable outcome, however, all things considered.


	10. Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: _Since Raizel likes sweets, perhaps you could write something involving chocolate syrup or whipped cream? I know the prompt isn't exactly BDSM, but it can be if you want to :D_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was given by madameazzure. Hope you like it! I don't know if this is what you wanted...but well, enjoy?

Tao is the one who brings him a bowl of fresh and ripe strawberries, water glistening on the red skin like gems with fluffy white cream to go with it. Raizel looks at the ensemble questioningly, and M-21 groans in the background, but Tao isn’t deterred.

 

“It’s a fruit,” he says with a flourish.

 

Raizel simply blinks at him.

 

Tao may have heard about a mysterious banana, but this is clearly something _different_.

 

He picks one up, dips it into the cream and eats it in one go. Raizel watches all of his movements with a curious look on his face, absorbing the information and committing it to his memory. Tao offers the bowl to him again, and this time, Raizel does not hesitate.

 

Soon enough, Tao has Raizel eating out of his hand, in a manner of speaking, that is. He’s successfully introduced chocolate syrup into the equation with great results, and soon enough, Raizel is the only one who somehow doesn’t have sticky fingers or chocolate and cream smudges on the corners of his mouth.

 

Raizel’s elegance really is legendary.

 

“I’m glad you liked it, sir,” Tao says happily, picking up another strawberry and chewing on it.

 

M-21 nods and wipes his hands on a napkin. “I’m glad you do, indeed.”

 

“What,” says a voice corner of the room, “Is _this_?”

 

M-21 drops his napkin in shock, only to snatch it from mid-air before it can hit the ground. He isn’t willing to withstand whatever Frankenstein would do to him lest it did fall.

 

“Strawberries,” Raizel says, picking one up to demonstrate and it’s a miracle how the chocolate syrup doesn’t drip down from it at all. Tao wonders if it’s something the Nobles can do, or is it somehow limited to the Noblesse? Being able to defy Physics like that.

 

Frankenstein’s eyes swivel around to meet Tao’s, narrowing first in anger and then exasperation. Tao sinks deeper into the cushions, upset that he’d let a bit of his fear show and caused Frankenstein to hold back. Not that he wants Frankenstein to be _angry_ with him, but…

 

It’s amazing how quickly Frankenstein is able to plaster a smile on his face when it comes to his Master: it should already be something really commonplace by now, and yet it astonishes Tao every single time.

 

“Ah, and is it to your liking, Master?” Frankenstein’s blue eyes linger over the drop of chocolate that teeters precariously over the table.

 

And as if Raizel can sense his distress, he brings the fruit to his mouth and takes a tiny, delicate bite out of it – a fleeting flash of pink tongue darting out to lick the chocolate syrup off it. “Yes,” he says, once he’s done chewing.

 

Tao glances between the two of them, wondering how Frankenstein would react if Raizel did, indeed, cause spillage. Would he be angry? Or would he let it slide because it’s Raizel and Raizel can do _anything_ to him. Then it occurs to him that maybe even though Raizel is naturally graceful, he’s perhaps extra cautious to not cause a mess for Frankenstein’s sake.

 

Frankenstein takes a seat next to him, staring a little hollowly at the mostly empty bowl and the smears around it. Tao is very, very glad that he’d roped Raizel into eating them – though, he supposes he’d brought them for Raizel as such, and not because he was craving them himself. He’s not unaware of how Raizel can elevate appreciating simple things into an art, and Tao likes to watch, because this is what he’s good with.

 

“Frankenstein,” Raizel says, placing his hand over Frankenstein’s shoulder in his oft-repeated gesture of consoling Frankenstein. But then he also leans forward and brushes his lips against Frankenstein’s forehead. “I’ll help clean up with Regis.”

 

Frankenstein’s face drains of all colour – and it had been such an interesting shade of pink too, when Raizel’s lips had made contact with his forehead – as he tries not to sputter. “Master,” he starts in a choked voice. “You shouldn’t— I’ll do it.”

 

Tao understands that the Boss’ Master really wants to help and be of use to the Boss in ways that doesn’t cause the Boss grief, such as by losing the precious little life he’s left, but Frankenstein really does not make it easy for either of them. But it’s because they love each other far too much and Tao gets it, even though it’s in front of him always, he is still taken aback by it every time. He turns around to grab M-21, only to realise that M-21 has made his strategic retreat a while ago.

 

Maybe M-21 is smarter than him in some ways.

 

As Tao backs out of the room, he hears Raizel move again and looks back to see Raizel’s hand still on Frankenstein’s shoulder, gaze softened to the point where it feels like intrusive to keep watching, and yet he persists.

 

“I want more strawberries.”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

Tao ducks out of the room at that, fairly certain that the next pills Frankenstein makes for them will _definitely_ be strawberry-flavoured again. But it’s all right, he supposes – he can live with that, provided that the Boss lets him, that is.


	11. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely qdeanna (on tumblr), sorry that it took a while! My writing mojo waxes and wanes with the moon or something...

The darkness is warm as it is welcoming, the sheets on which his body rests are soft, and Raizel's hands on his back are gentle, fluttery, like wings of a great white bird shielding him from all harm. Frankenstein takes a deep breath, presses his face into the softness of his pillow and stills. Raizel's fingers map the planes and ridges of his body, cataloguing the scars, noting the way his muscles move under his skin and the jut of his bones over his chest and back.

Raizel's regard presses harder than his touch does and it's difficult to breathe.

Frankenstein shifts, lifts his hips so that Raizel can slip his fingers below and cup him gently. There's nothing in the touch itself, but it's more than arousing for Frankenstein and he lets out a quiet breath. He cannot see, so Raizel draws a figure for him with his hands, with the warmth of his body and the soft slide of his hair against Frankenstein's back. Every single caress is exquisite and leaves a trail of tingling pleasure deep under his skin.

The sheets will be stained with the evidence of their activities, Frankenstein knows that and does not care. He wants Raizel to touch him, use him, and then bring him to the heights of pleasure, driving all unnecessary things out of his mind. Even this. And as if Raizel can hear his non-vocalised pleas, he moves his hand, gentle but firm, pushing Frankenstein down with his weight.

Every single stroke is painfully pleasurable, and then heightened by the lack of sight as he cannot see what kind of expression Raizel is making. Is he pleased to have Frankenstein below him, writhing in pleasure for him, throat dry and body attenuated to every single stroke? He wonders what kind of look Raizel has in his eyes, what kind of smile he shows when no one is looking. He wonders what kind of smile Raizel reserves _only_ for him.

He thinks of those slender, graceful fingers wrapped around himself, so boldly claiming what is his, and then using everything _Frankenstein_ has taught him to turn the tables on him. He almost wants to see, but he cannot, of course by his own design yet again.

Clenching his fingers in the pillow, he bucks into Raizel's hand, mind overworking as he tries to visualise every single thing he has deprived himself of, and placing himself so utterly in Raizel's care. And Raizel makes sure to take care of him just the way he needs it. Sweat beads on his brow, breath stutters in his lungs and his body sings with the love he feels with every touch that Raizel gives him, draining into him through the skin and overflowing until he cannot think straight.

He comes with a sigh, muffled by the pillow and Raizel withdraws his hand, stroking his back once more with his other hand. Frankenstein takes the blindfold off and blinks at him, only to realise that Raizel's hand is covered in his body fluids. He takes a moment to blush, and Raizel responds by lifting that hand to his face and licking it off delicately as if it is some delicious treat. If anything, Frankenstein's blush deepens the more for it.

And when Raizel kisses him with his taste in that elegant mouth, Frankenstein can only whimper in pleasure, so thoroughly played by his generous Master.


	12. Mutuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raizel lends a hand to Frankenstein with his recovery.

When Frankenstein's eyes open, he finds himself in his bed, blinds drawn and the room bathed in a soft blue glow of his curtains. He turns his head to the side to gaze at the brightness lurking just behind the thick cloth and takes a deep breath through his nose. Something shifts under his head and that's when he realises that his pillow is softer than usual. He looks up, surprised, and finds Raizel's eyes watching him.

"Master—"

Raizel holds a finger to his lips. Then his hand descends into Frankenstein's hair, gently untangling the knots and snags, combing it out until it rests smoothly against his shoulder. Frankenstein cannot move, cannot close his eyes, so he just watches, entirely breathless, the way Raizel's attention is solely focused on the task at hand. His touch is tender like Frankenstein's infinitely precious, _breakable_ , and the slightest pressure might shatter him – which it might, right at this moment, because of how much he's put into Raizel's hands.

He's afraid of not being able to put himself back together by the time Raizel's done with him.

Raizel's fingers flutter hesitantly over Frankenstein's face, pausing to ascertain Frankenstein's state of mind. As if he can deny his Master. Raizel sighs above, then cups his face and brings their faces together in a soft, fleeting kiss. Raizel's hair tickles his cheek and he presses his forehead to Raizel's neck. He feels it through his skin when Raizel swallows and pulls away.

He opens his mouth again, only to be silenced by the look on Raizel's face. He does not move – he's not allowed to – but he does point to the cabinet next to their bed where the requisite items are kept. He wants them. His entire body aches for it, now that he's thought of it, being in Raizel's care right now. Raizel's eyes follow the movement and he acquiesces, replacing his lap with a pillow to gather what Frankenstein needs.

In the end, he returns only with the silken ropes which he then ties around Frankenstein's wrists. Frankenstein tests the give and then nods, relaxing back on the bed for Raizel to do whatever he wants.

"Close your eyes, Frankenstein," Raizel tells him once he's done arranging Frankenstein's limbs to his satisfaction. Since he feels no discomfort, he supposes it's entirely for his benefit anyway.

He nods and closes his eyes.

Raizel undoes his clothes, taking his time to undo each button carefully and his hands brush against Frankenstein's skin more and more. Raizel's fully aware of his sensitive spots, knows how to turn Frankenstein on without even touching him where it matters the most, and by the time his pants come off, he's already half-hard. Frankenstein tenses slightly, half in anticipation and half in impatience as all touch is withdrawn for a few moments. Then, a hot puff of air hits the apex of his thighs and Frankenstein almost opens his eyes in shock.

Warmth settles between his legs as soft, impossibly soft lips brush against the inside of his thighs, right next to his groin. There are fingers too, then, skimming over the dip of his bones and grabbing onto his body as Raizel holds him down. Frankenstein draws a shaky breath as Raizel presses his cheek to Frankenstein's erection, now painfully hard, and nuzzles it.

"Ma—'

"Don't talk, Frankenstein, and keep your eyes closed."

It's a direct order, so Frankenstein cannot disobey. There's only one way out now as they both know it, but Frankenstein is reluctant to use it because he's not uncomfortable. Even so, he wants to look at Raizel's face, wants to see that intent gaze now turned on him like _that_. In the next moments all thought flee from his mind as Raizel pulls back the foreskin with his hand, then licks at the sensitive head of his cock. Frankenstein shudders, clenches his fingers together into a bloodless grip and bites his lip. This isn't the first time Raizel has done this to him, but he's never had to hold back himself from looking without the aid of a blindfold.

No, this is far more intimate because the only thing holding back from Frankenstein breaking Raizel's order is his willpower. And Raizel is slowly eroding every single shred of control Frankenstein possesses.

Raizel swallows him up, pushing him into his velvet-soft and hot mouth, making Frankenstein buck a little from the sudden onslaught of sensation. They have barely begun and Frankenstein already feels on the edge. He digs his nails into the fleshy part of his palms, hard enough to bleed and tilts his head back. His toes curl and his heels drag against the bed as Raizel starts moving his mouth over Frankenstein's cock. Frankenstein can readily imagine that elegant arch of Raizel's mouth, now stretched wide against the girth of Frankenstein's erection, and that tongue pressed flat against the underside – he can feel it in every inch of his skin.

His teeth break through the skin of his lip and flood his mouth with the taste of his own blood. Raizel can feel it too, he's sure of it, because if anything it seems to spur Raizel on to suck harder, move faster. The thing most paramount to him right now other than the fast-approaching orgasm is the order Raizel has given him. He must not speak. He must not open his eyes. He must do it at any cost – he repeats it over and over in his mind.

And then Raizel brings his hand down, pushes his fingertip into his asshole. It slides in easily, slick and warm from Raizel's saliva and Frankenstein's fluids, and unerringly finds his prostate. Frankenstein scrunches his eyes shut harder and struggles not to make a sound. Raizel for his part moves his finger inside Frankenstein's body in tandem with his mouth, relentless and insistent as if nothing else matters to him – and maybe it doesn't.

Just when the word teeters on the edge of Frankenstein's tongue, read to spill, Raizel's presence brushes against his mind, instantly calming him despite everything. The next command is not verbal but Frankenstein has no trouble parsing it. He flops back on the bed, letting go entirely and comes, splattering his cum inside Raizel's mouth and face. The pleasure wrings through his body, leaving him boneless on the bed. His eyes fly open of their own accord, though it's all right now – he's been permitted to do so, and he stares at the ceiling blindly as the waves of his orgasm recede.

The bonds that keep his wrists close together come undone, sliding away and he reaches down to pull Raizel up when he feels like he can move. Raizel lets him, tucking himself into Frankenstein's side and simply holding him. When he's done gathering his breath back into his body, he holds Raizel's face to make him look up.

"Master, let me—?"

Raizel shakes his head. "No need, I already came."

"You did?" Frankenstein stares. "When?"

"When you came," Raizel says, smiles a little and it's breathtaking. "In the last second, I had opened my bond with you to tell you to let go, and I was hit by what you were feeling. That seemed to have helped."

"Oh," Frankenstein says.

Raizel kisses him, licking away the blood away from his already healing lip and Frankenstein feels Raizel's power stir within his blood. His body is responding the way it did the day they'd made the contract and the mere thought makes him keen a little.

"Do you feel a little better?" Raizel asks, lips still brushing against Frankenstein in soft, almost not-kisses.

"Yes, Master," Frankenstein says, overwhelmed. At last he understands and that does little to help the hot thing lodged at the back of his throat.

"Then sleep. I'll guard your dreams today."

When Raizel places his palm over Frankenstein's eyes, he closes them obediently and settles against Raizel's shoulder to sleep, to rest, and let himself heal, reassured because Raizel will be there when he wakes. And that's all he needs.


	13. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory wingfic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while ago after being prompted by [an-earl](https://tmblr.co/mF0OEfPsBla5POsBHQ2_-Iw) to write a wingfic/something to do with Frankenstein noticing scars where Raizel's wings come out. There's nothing...smutty about this, but, well, here it is!

His fingers find the slightly upraised silver-coloured scars while he's stroking the smooth expanse of Raizel's back. His Noble is curled into his body comfortably, face tucked under Frankenstein's chin, and while he's not asleep, he has certainly found some repose in their current situation. The scars themselves are very faint, almost non-existent, thereby explaining why Frankenstein hasn't noticed them before. Have they always been there?

He traces them across Raizel's shoulder blades and presses them gently with his thumb. Raizel's eyes flutter open – red peeking from underneath a heavy curtain of dark lashes. Frankenstein smiles almost instinctively. Raizel blinks and nestles closer, placing his hand on Frankenstein's chest.

The realisation comes in a gentle wave, pulling him under in the dark warm waters and holding him down until he's breathless, then letting him go. He pulls his hand away, curls his fingers over the curve of Raizel's shoulder and holds it to anchor himself. It works, because Raizel is solid underneath his fingertips and the press of his lips against Frankenstein's throat is soft, _pleased_. Something flutters inside Frankenstein's chest, like the wings of a hummingbird, and he sucks in a breath.

The scars are of course a remnant of all the cruel and ugly things their lives are surrounded by, but they aren't horrible by themselves. Raizel's wings are beautiful, certainly, when they unfurl and dwarf everything around him, red as the blood that is under his absolute dominion, and precious as his life.

The life that trickles away every time they rip through his skin and cloth: one that can be mended and the other cannot.

Raizel lifts his hand and places it on Frankenstein's cheek, stroking it fondly, reminding him of the truly important things. Frankenstein closes his eyes, surrendering himself to the kindness bestowed upon him by the sweet creature trapped in his arms. And almost in answer, the skin of Raizel's back ripples and red peeks from underneath – he doesn't need his eyes to feel the surge of that power – and suddenly he's ensconced in the luminescent carmine wings, warm like the patch of winter sunlight and comforting like his Master's aura, as always.

He opens his mouth, queries filling his mind about whether it is all right to take the wings out, but Raizel silences him with a press of lips, the touch of his fingers across Frankenstein's shut eyelids, and Frankenstein melts against him. The wings rest gently against his body, and then they dissipate into the thin air, leaving behind only a memory of Raizel's love seared red-gold into his skin.

The next breath he takes tastes of iron, catching at the back of his throat.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first time, sort of (in a technical sense).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm still alive...just busy IRL. Anyway, laryna6 had requested (AN AGE AGO) their first time--of sorts, and here I am with something that very little porn to feelings ratio. Also, I had fun inserting an-earl's Franken fantasizing about Raizel while indulging in haberdashery.

Frankenstein's fingers, when he pulls the gloves off them, are damp and shaky. He rests his hands on the baluster on the balcony and takes a deep breath. It's far too warm to refresh him. But there is a burgeoning hope for rain. He can taste it on the tip of his tongue, and so he stays outside for a little while longer before turning and walking back to the temperature-controlled insides of his room.

The sweat dries on his brow as he strips, slow and methodical, and places the discarded clothing in the laundry basket. He can, technically, dispense with the whole ritual of clothing and washing, but to entirely abandon all the mundane activities is to abandon his humanity, given how _long_ he has lived, and so he clings to all the human drudgery that he can. But being human does not mean he will be a slop, and that's why his clothes never gain a wrinkle or a crease, though they have gained a singular propensity in becoming rapidly unusable lately.

Speaking of which: _Master_.

Frankenstein's breath leaves him in a huff as he leans over the basket, almost upending it when he recalls his Master's condition. It's not _bad_ , per se, but he has definitely miscalculated the extent of damage Raizel has sustained eight hundred and twenty years ago. The thought sits heavily just below his ribcage, constricting his lungs.

 _Raizel_. So kind and gentle, so readily willing to expend his life for the sake of others, so unselfconscious in his actions and generous to a fault. His most beloved person. So recently returned from his centuries long slumber, back into Frankenstein's life as if he'd never left it, and to him, that's probably true, too.

But for Frankenstein, even with the unnaturally long lifespan, it has been an eternity. And yet, nothing has changed: to his unchanging Master, he's still the same Frankenstein that he'd left behind. In some ways, that is true too, but Frankenstein has learned to live without Raizel, a half-life though it may have been – all things considered. The bounty he has now is unimaginable to the man he was in the past, wandering in search of his salvation alone.

Because Raizel is his salvation and damnation, all at once – he has saved Frankenstein, but he has also tamed Frankenstein, not on purpose, of course. The capitulation on Frankenstein's part is _entirely_ voluntary, but also inevitable because how could he not? It has made him vulnerable, changed the way he had lived his life until that point and reorient himself completely. He does not regret a single second of it, of course, because if there's anyone worthy of that kind of devotion, it's Raizel because he has never sought it, never asked for it, but he has always valued it and Frankenstein beyond comprehension.

Probably did it before Frankenstein became aware of it.

Frankenstein sighs, pushes himself upright and goes to sit on the bed without bothering with dressing himself. He feels far too overcome by the fact that Raizel is back with him, living right under _his_ roof this time, and he has been given the opportunity to fill Raizel's life with everything that is beautiful and lovely, just like Raizel himself, and make sure there's never a single moment of loneliness. He shudders at the thought of seeing Raizel's lonely back again, framed by darkness of his cheerless manor back on Lukedonia.

Raizel has thanked him already for whatever efforts he has made, because Raizel is kind and takes even the smallest gestures very seriously. Every single consideration, even the throwaway kind like the children bestow upon him – for Raizel, they are treasured memories that he will remember long after his body turns to dust. The thought makes his chest ache.

He doesn't want to think about the inevitability of their separation, though they have _just_ reunited, precisely because every moment is precious and he doesn't want to waste it thinking of what the future may hold. Raizel is _here_ , within reach for a long time hence, if Frankenstein can help it.

Still, it would be remiss to claim that Frankenstein has remained unchanged in more ways than one. In the intervening years, he had forgotten just how graceful, how luminous and ineffable the being he serves is, because the moment Raizel walked back into his life, he had fallen to his knees not simply out of fealty. It is not a wonder that the entire school is charmed by him, though none dare approach him aside from Raizel's friends. It's not a coincidence that every ordinary human who meets Raizel cannot keep their eyes off him.

Frankenstein isn't the first one to admire the Noblesse's elegance – all the other Nobles, whether they liked him or not, did as well. And just like them, Raizel is an untouchable existence – Frankenstein cannot imagine sullying him with his human desires. He can only admire him from the exalted position he's been given, as the only person Raizel has ever contracted with. Frankenstein should be satisfied by that, and yet, the same human nature is persistent in its greed and insatiability.

He brings his knees up and wraps his arms around them, resting his face in the crook between his limbs. He does not want to think about this – but he is, he can no longer stop now that he has started. For hundreds of years, he had excised all desire from his body, extinguished any need that could possibly stem – he had to focus on his task and not on superfluous dalliances because of a traitorous body. His heart had always been set on one person alone, and now that person has returned to him, so he no longer has any control over what he feels.

Or what he wants.

What he wants is to _touch_ Raizel, to feel the warmth of his skin, to make sure by touch that it's real beneath his hands, to be touched in return – but that is wishing for far too much. He thinks he'd be okay with just touching, just being allowed to be near, even though he knows of his own greed far too well. It won't be enough, but at least it'd be better than _this_.

He feels the first stirrings of desire then, the mere idea of Raizel's hands on Frankenstein's body set his mind aflame. He bites down on his arm, not breaking the skin and tries not to squirm. His belly tightens and clenches as images surface in his mind, those long, pale fingers touching Frankenstein, claiming and consuming him whole. It's more than he can possibly take, and when his erection presses against his stomach, he's barely surprised.

Breathing through his nose, Frankenstein unfolds his limbs a little and palms himself slightly, hesitant in his touch because he isn't sure if he should be doing this. He is not sure if he wants to – and once he _does_ , he realises that he does not want to stop. He bites down on his lower lip, scrunches his eyes shut, and imagines that the fingers wrapped around his length aren't his own. It _works_ and has him keening embarrassingly. He lets go in surprise and loosens his limbs, removing his hands so that he won't be tempted again.

His need is a sore thing, aching deep inside, however.

He uncoils himself from his bed and heads towards the shower, wanting to be rid of the sweat and other things besides that there's a soft knock on the door. Then it opens, and there is only _one_ person who can enter his personal room without permission. His heart jumps into his throat and he can't even remember to clothe himself before Raizel steps into the room and locks it behind himself.

Calm red eyes meet his, and Frankenstein forgets how to breathe. Then those eyes slide down the planes of his exposed body before snapping up to meet his gaze again, though there's no noticeable change in them. Frankenstein's mouth is dry as it can be and he has no idea what to do or how to react. He does have enough presence of mind to conjure clothes then, however, mortification finally catching up with him.

"Master," he mumbles, "was there something?" He knows he must be red in the face, but Raizel is too polite to comment on it or his earlier state of undress – or arousal.

Raizel regards him in silence for a long time until Frankenstein has to suppress the desire to fidget. "You called to me," Raizel says, eventually, though he does seem a little less self-assured than usual and if Frankenstein wasn't watching him closely for clues, he'd have missed it.

But what he says makes _no_ sense to Frankenstein. "I did?"

"In your mind," Raizel explains. "You wanted me to –"

"Wait, wait," Frankenstein raises his hands. The horror of what he has dawns on him simultaneously as he speaks, halting Raizel in the middle. He _cannot_ believe that he accidentally opened their bond at _that_ moment to fill Raizel's mind with his licentious images. "Master, that was a mistake. Please, forgive me," he says, a little weakly but no less emphatic for that.

Raizel looks a little troubled now, but he does not push the point. He turns to go and starts walking, only to pause and hesitate at the doorway. His fingers hover over the doorknob for a while before he pulls his hand away and turns his face to look at Frankenstein once more.

"I am sorry, Frankenstein," he says, face a pale shadow under the overhead light. He looks breakable.

Frankenstein does not ask what for. He can barely see straight, and by the time he has recovered, Raizel is gone.

* * *

The next time it happens, he's very careful to not let his mind run away from him and accidentally telegraph his unwanted desires to Raizel's mind. As it is he finds it difficult to look at Raizel in the eye since that time, and he's _aware_ how it bothers Raizel. That is why he does not touch himself, does not think about his Master in _that_ way and uses his iron self-control to will it away. It almost does work until Raizel walks in on him, _again_. But no part of the house is forbidden to Raizel, so even though he's holed up in his lab – the thing farthest from being an ideal setting for any kinds of liaisons to take place, his mind certainly ran away from him – he finds himself in a slightly compromised position nonetheless as Raizel finds him leaning over the slab, red in the face.

"Frankenstein…"

"Yes, Master, I'm fine. I'll go get you some tea, please have a seat." He gestures vaguely at the parasol and the table set beneath it – a permanent fixture in his lab now – and dashes out of the room. He does not miss the way troubled lines deepen across Raizel's face, but he's not ready to talk about it yet.

* * *

The third time it happens – and each time with less and less time in between – he's stitching up Raizel's uniform early in the morning. It starts with an innocuous enough thought – the idea of taking Raizel's measurements sometimes, though he has them memorised, just to see if his tailoring skills can be improved in some manner. It goes downhill from there and eventually, Frankenstein has to put the swathes of fabric away and take care of his little problem _elsewhere_.

And as expected, Raizel walks into the room just as he's trying to exit it and Frankenstein stops short so that they don't end up colliding. Of course, Raizel also stops in his tracks because he sensed Frankenstein beforehand, so there is no actual chance of collision, but still. Frankenstein's throat is dry and his heart pounds loud enough for Raizel to hear. They stare at each other for a moment, before Raizel's eyes slide down his chest and then back up.

"Are you well, Frankenstein?" Kindness lacing every single word, consideration, and his gentle nature troubled by Frankenstein's palpable distress – Frankenstein feels ashamed for having caused it.

"Yes, I am," he says, lying through his teeth and he knows that his Master does not buy it.

"I do not wish to order you to tell me," Raizel informs him, taking a seat beside him and regarding him calmly. "However, you are worrying the children." Frankenstein winces, realising it to be the truth. "And I'm aware that I'm the one responsible for it."

"No, you are not," Frankenstein says, quickly. "You are not."

"Frankenstein—" and there's a little bit of exhaustion mingled in Raizel's voice, "I'm aware of what desire feels like when directed towards me. You open your mind to me often enough, unknowingly so, when you're distressed. And while I ignore it when it comes to others – you are _special_."

Frankenstein does not speak because he cannot. He wishes the ground to swallow him rather than have his Master articulate his desires and lay them bare, for a person who rarely does that.

"Being here with you, it's one of the most selfish decisions I have made. I should return to Lukedonia where all my duties are, and yet I desire to linger here in the world you've made for me." Raizel pauses to look around. "It brings me the greatest joy and the highest honour to receive this from you. Frankenstein, do not let yourself be led astray by human fallibility."

He blinks, unsure what Raizel means by that – is it about his desires, or his insecurities, but he isn't sure how to ask. And as if sensing that, Raizel's perfect face is marred by a slight frown. "You should not doubt yourself so much, Frankenstein. Whatever you wish of me, all you need to do is to _ask_."

"Master, I…" _How_ can he ask for that? Undoing the tangle inside his mind and locating the root of his issue has been difficult enough for himself, so how is he supposed to properly convey it to Raizel, even if Raizel understands him better than himself.

"Is there something I can do?" Raizel asks, and it strikes Frankenstein that it must have been the first time Raizel has asked him of _anything_. If there's something he needs, he will either only communicate it nonverbally or simply give up on it if he cannot achieve it through sheer elegance alone. Raizel does not ask for guidance, nor for a favour from Frankenstein – he's simply grateful for whatever Frankenstein does for him. Cherishing everything and spending enough time and care on everything Frankenstein brings him, that's Raizel's way of expressing his gratitude. He has certainly never asked Frankenstein to instruct him how to do something or what to do in a given situation – and that's the reason Frankenstein often expends far too much effort in trying to anticipate Raizel's needs.

And it's worth every second of it, of course.

That, if nothing else, helps him get over the mortification bit and move onto the more important things: namely, assisting Raizel. Frankenstein comes to a decision, partly for Raizel's sake and partly for his own. "If you wish, you can remain seated there. I will not touch you or demand anything from you – it's just something I need to experience, I suppose."

Raizel relaxes a little into the chair, though his posture and bearing is still immaculate as ever. "Very well."

Exhaling through his nose, Frankenstein digs into his inner calm – admittedly there's not _much_ of that in there – and relaxes as well, propping his feet up on the couch and lying down against its arm. His breathing slows down at first, only to pick up the pace when he starts thinking of Raizel right next to him. There's sound of his breathing, the gentle curling warmth of his aura around the room, and the images come unbidden to his mind. Frankenstein wishes he could touch Raizel, but he _did_ promise.

His pants fall open at the slightest touch, and he palms himself through the underwear at first and then draws himself out and begins pleasuring himself. He has expected far more embarrassment than he currently feels, and that can only be attributed to Raizel being so close, keeping him grounded through presence alone. Even if Frankenstein is focused on the physicality of his actions, his mind is completely hooked onto the fact that it's _Raizel_ he's thinking about, sitting just a few paces from him, watching him with that solemn gaze.

Frankenstein does not dare to open his eyes, even if Raizel's regard is a warm, heavy weight on his chest.

He wishes to take it slow, to savour every moment – after all, he isn't sure if he'll be able to do this again – but his body has other ideas. Pleasure pulses through his body, building up far more quickly, and his endurance is laid to waste as he imagines holding Raizel in his arms, kissing those soft lips and pushing his hands into silky black hair.

It's nearly his undoing. Just as he's nearing his peak, he feels Raizel's presence press into his mind a little deeper, carefully watching him and embracing him from within. And it's more than he can handle: he's coming embarrassingly quick, spilling into his hand like an eager, inexperienced teenager, breath stolen from his body and his composure ripped to shreds.

When he opens his eyes, he finds looking at the flushed face of his Master, fingers gripping the armrest and expression somewhat pinched.

"Master?" he asks, voice a little rough from all the swallowed moans. He cleans himself up discreetly and vows to shower later, when Raizel is no longer in the room.

"That felt," Raizel pauses, trying to get his bearings even though the blush on his face shows no signs of receding. "It felt good. Feeling what you felt, experiencing your thoughts directed towards me. It made me curious as to how it would feel."

Something inside Frankenstein soars as he digests Raizel's words. He leaves the couch and gets on his knees in front of him, heart thudding incessantly in his chest. "May I?" He raises his hand to rest on Raizel's cheek tentatively, and when Raizel nods his assent, he presses their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. Raizel melts into it, going pliant against him and Frankenstein makes a small, helpless sound of adoration and pulls him close.

Raizel fits well into the crook of his body, just like how his love fills the crevasses in Frankenstein's heart and his presence permeates the empty corners of his life. Raizel keeps offering more of himself to Frankenstein and Frankenstein keeps hoarding it. He'll never be able to let go of Raizel now – nor does he want to.


	15. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words are useless in the space they currently inhabit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct continuation of the one before this. (And I apologise for the shameless lack of smut in this one.)

Sunlight pours into the room from his bedside window in a thin beam, sliding over Raizel sitting next to his pillow. It frames him like a halo, luminous in the relative dark. The rest of the room is submerged in darkness.

Because it's not a dream, Frankenstein reaches forward to brush his fingers against Raizel's hair, wispy soft and cool to touch.

"Did I forget to open the curtains last night?"

Master has never slept in his room before, so Frankenstein did not open the curtains all the way through. It's still a gross oversight on his part. He shifts, feeling more well-rested than he has felt in decades, perhaps centuries, and makes to get up, only to pause when Raizel places his fingers on Frankenstein's shoulder to arrest his movement.

Then he remembers last night, and the fact that he just fell asleep after he'd cleaned up, leaving Master all alone to watch over him. A duty he has performed admirably, considering Frankenstein has slept through the night – a rare thing, indeed. He knows he should be at least somewhat embarrassed, but he only feels _buoyant_. It's a heady feeling and he cannot get enough of it, already wishing to chase after it again: to reach out and touch Raizel again, in any way he wants, to impress his love for his Master through his body and mind both.

Frankenstein licks his lips, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to hold the love he feels inside. It swells nonetheless and has him trembling, wanting to hold Raizel, but –

"Frankenstein," Raizel says, soft and quiet, and _looks_ at him. Frankenstein meets his gaze and remembers what his Master had told him last night, and that it still stands. He does not need more encouragement than that to shuffle closer and place his hands over Raizel's shoulders. It's not really all that difficult to disrobe his Master, even though he's trembling from excitement and anticipation, his fingers do not fumble overlong with the buttons of Master's perfectly pressed white shirt. Soon, he has him bare-chested and pinned to the headboard, back against the pillow.

Raizel looks up at him now, eyes beguiling and lips parted slightly in surprise, and his cheeks are dusted with a delicate blush. Frankenstein reaches out to trace it over Raizel's cheekbones, sliding his thumb down the curve of his jaw, and then to the hollow of his throat. The skin is soft and warm: Raizel is _alive_ , warm and solid, under Frankenstein's touch. Frankenstein's heart nearly beats out of his chest as he considers the boon he has been granted, but then it's not _really_ that, it's far more than he could have ever imagined.

His fingertips rest lightly over the curve of Raizel's collarbones as the idea strikes him, and once it gets its grip on his mind it refuses to let go. Frankenstein swallows and presses his thumb into Raizel's skin, eyes darting everywhere except where he wants it.

"Master, I—"

Raizel's body trembles slightly under his grip, but his gaze does not waver. He does not say anything, and yet if he was opposed to this, he'd have long withdrawn from Frankenstein's grip. Still, Frankenstein feels the need to ask because his Master is far too considerate for someone like him. "May I?"

A quick nod follows his words immediately, and then Raizel's closing his eyes and angling his body forward to lean towards Frankenstein. It's too sweet for Frankenstein to handle all at once. A shuddering breath leaves him and he pushes himself closer, placing his lips over the soft, vulnerable curve of Raizel's neck, hovering indecisively. It's a perversity of what their bond stands for, or it would be, if it wasn't entirely consensual. If it was Raizel caging Frankenstein with his body and taking it by force. And Frankenstein would let him. He knows he would.

And he also knows that Raizel would _never._ This brings them back to this moment: Frankenstein's teeth a few centimetres away from Raizel's neck, ready to bite, not because he desires Raizel's blood – no, it's a much baser instinct. He wishes to _mark_ Raizel, to carve evidence on this unmarked body so that he can tell that Raizel is his. Always has been his since the day he had accepted Frankenstein's blood, just as much as Frankenstein is _his_. Though Raizel is the master of the two, the reciprocity of his emotions is the key difference that keeps Frankenstein bound even after _centuries_.

He has been in love with Raizel for centuries and has yet to tire of the feeling. Rather, the feeling deepens every passing moment, every breath he takes. He rests his forehead against Raizel's shoulder and breathes him in, the clean scent of fabric and tea. It takes a moment, but then Raizel places his hands over Frankenstein's back to pull him close. He hasn't said anything, but then neither has Frankenstein, because words are useless in the little pocket of space they currently inhabit. They are close enough that there's only the space of a heartbeat between them, and Frankenstein's hands rest over Raizel's chest, fingers fitting into the space between Raizel's ribs that he can feel through the skin.

The body is only a construct of flesh and blood; it's the _soul_ that matters the most, and Raizel's soul has been his for the longest time. That's the reason that Raizel slides his fingers into Frankenstein's hair and guides him gently to his neck, where he had been moments before, in silent understanding. Frankenstein does not need to be told twice. He bites down gently on the soft skin – not breaking it – just hard enough to leave a mark. The body under his goes still, almost rigid and Frankenstein panics for a moment, wondering if he has hurt his Master, but then Raizel _melts_ against him.

When Frankenstein lets go, Raizel makes a soft, hesitant noise and Frankenstein has to stop himself from squeezing Raizel too hard. He imagines himself as the grand villain of a B-grade vampire movie, with Raizel as his hapless but bewitching victim, and having him at his mercy. He groans into Raizel's shoulder and pulls him away, dispelling the sudden silly turn his thoughts have taken.

He backs away a little to admire the faint mark he has left on Raizel's skin, rubbing it with his thumb. He knows it'll fade away before the hour is out so he spends the next few moments committing it to memory. Then the moment passes and he sits back, feeling slightly sheepish and somewhat embarrassed at the sudden lack of control on his part. "Master, forgive me, I—"

Raizel shakes his head and covers the mark with his fingers, eyes slightly wide as he inspects it with his hand. His eyelashes flutter as his fingers trace over the mark and once he's done, he pins Frankenstein with his gaze, completely unreadable. The moment hangs in the air and dissolves, leaving Frankenstein on tenterhooks.

"You have nothing to apologise for, Frankenstein. I did not mind."

He swallows and looks down at his lap, dredging up his courage. "That's – that's good to know, Master, but I was wondering if you liked it." That part is important too, after all.

Raizel considers it, because he's extremely thoughtful and will never dismiss anything out of hand, not when Frankenstein's feelings hang in the balance. "Do you mean what you feel for me or just this?" He tilts his head a little.

"Both."

"Have I not already answered that question before?" Raizel lets out a little sigh like he's wont to do when Frankenstein is being particularly difficult – in his opinion, at least. The sight fills him with fond nostalgia and relief and he sags a little, resting against Raizel. "As for this – do not doubt me so much."

"Right, forgive me, Master." Frankenstein swallows. He's silly for underestimating Raizel, every single time, because of course, Raizel loves him too. And the thought of it makes something flutter within his chest, light and bright, burning its way inside out with the gentlest of flames.


	16. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The parents and the _children_ spend some quality time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in less than an hour at an ungodly hour in the morning. Please point out any typo etc. All stories in this fic are interconnected, though not in a chronological order, of course. 
> 
> ~~AND RAJAK IS ALIVE, LEAVE ME ALONE.~~

M-21 catches the tossed can of cold coffee before it can hit him in the back of his head. He does not take any umbrage, but rather, he opens the can and takes a small sip. Tao joins him and they drink their beverages in relative silence – as much silence that can be managed with Tao there. Once they are done, Tao tosses the empty cans into a nearby garbage can and regards M-21 solemnly.

"Is there something on my face?"

Tao shakes his head. "No, I'm just trying to commit this to my memory."

"You are being weirder than usual."

"Well, we might die, so—"

M-21 shifts uneasily and grips the railing he's been leaning for the past hour or so. "What happened?"

"Boss wants to see us," Tao says as a way of explanation, but that does not tell M-21 much.

"About?" prompts M-21 when Tao does not offer further insights. "What did you do this time?"

"Why does everyone assume it's my fault?" Tao pouts at him, but it does bring to a smile to his face, less impish than his usual ones. "I have no idea, actually. Boss sounded really scary though – very serious, no nonsense voice, so I'm assuming someone's gonna die."

M-21 reaches forward to grab Tao by the elbow to pull him away from the roof and towards Frankenstein's office. "Or you could refrain from being so melodramatic all the time." He hasn't forgotten the incident where Gejutel and Rael had destroyed the kitchen. "Come, let's go. If Frankenstein was serious, making him wait would just increase our mortality rate."

They find both Frankenstein and Rai in the chairman's office, drinking tea – because where would the latter be without _that_ – and that helps M-21 relax a little. If Raizel is here, there's no way Frankenstein would go wild. Perhaps. Takeo is already seated with them with a cup of his own, the same serene expression on his face that they are used to seeing on Raizel's, and it helps Tao come to the same conclusion as M-21 and he pulls away from the grip on his elbow.

"Well, boss, I brought M-21 just like you asked me to."

Frankenstein sets his cup down and gives him a once over. "Sit down and let's have some tea."

They sit down, a cup of hot, fragrant tea in their palms and hearts pounding slightly. It never bodes well when Frankenstein is in a mood – any kind of mood, really. And while it has been a while since M-21 has been _actually_ scared of Frankenstein, there's still a very real fear of letting him down in some way. M-21 does not think he can stand disappointing Frankenstein or Raizel, or inconveniencing them in some way. It's rather strange, because nobody has ever expected anything from him before. He was a part of failed experiment. He was supposed to _die,_ like the trash he was. Nobody except his comrades would have cared. And yet here were so many people who cared about him, his health and well-being, and he did not wish to let them down.

"So, boss?" Tao asks, a little hesitantly, fingers brushing the rim of his cup as he tries not to fidget. "What is this about?"

Raizel is the one who sets his cup down this time, raising his eyes to meet theirs for the first time. Then he looks at Frankenstein, silently imploring him to get on with it already – or so M-21 thinks. It's not like Frankenstein to hesitate, so whatever it is, it's definitely possible that Frankenstein is trying to find the best way to approach it in a way that does not scar them too much. Again, M-21 thinks. Or rather, hopes.

"Right – so," Frankenstein clears his throat and taps his finger against the armrest. "Master and I have discussed a few things and I realised that though you three look and act like adults, with a few notable exceptions." A glance directed towards Tao. "I feel as if there are a few lacunae in your knowledge regarding certain matters. As your elder, we thought it was best if we filled those gaps that the Union have left behind. Of course, we also discussed how to best do that, and in that matter, Master and I had some differences of opinion."

M-21's jaw slackens against his wishes as he processes Frankenstein's statement. _Frankenstein_ had a difference of opinion with his Master? And Raizel was not angry? Well, Raizel was not the type of person to get angry – but still. That means whatever Frankenstein was going to spout now, M-21 would end up wishing he had not been present for it.

"The Union was really shit at fostering interpersonal relationships," Frankenstein states, pushing his glasses up his nose – completely in the zone. "Especially, they have absolutely no idea how to raise children properly. When they wipe memories and personalities, they essentially revert these people into a childlike state. Children need warmth, love and care from authority figures in their lives in order to grow into healthy adults. And yes, Takeo, I _am_ talking about you." Frankenstein smiles: a thing that makes M-21 want to back away slowly. "All of you," Frankenstein adds for a good measure.

"So…?" Tao asks, voice reedy.

"So, Master and I feel that we should step in and provide. Tao has been curious about the kind of relationship I share with Master, and I know all of you are interested in finding out because you think that the outcome of that might affect your lives. You think that if he and I had a falling out, you might lose your only home." Frankenstein pauses, face crumpling slightly and it sends a pang to M-21's heart. "While I would like to reassure you that it wouldn't happen, we figured there might be better ways to do that."

That said, Frankenstein reaches out, slowly as trying not to spook them, and holds his hand out. Tao is the first one to take it – the most adventurous of the three of them – and M-21 watches as Frankenstein draws him into…what can only be called the warmest, cosiest hug he has ever witnessed. Not that he's seen a _lot_ of them, however. He wants to look away, to get up and walk away – and he knows that if he does, they won't blame him. But – _but_ Raizel is looking at him with his gentle, kind eyes, and there's something in their depth that resonates deep inside his chest. M-21's moving before he can think better of it, tucking his head under Raizel's chin and clutching at his shirt. He lets go of the shirt moments later because he remembers that Raizel does not like getting his clothing wrinkled, but he does not remove his hand from Raizel's person.

Raizel is _warm_.

He notices that Takeo has settled next to them, body tense and stiff, but he's not running away either. This is strange, extremely so, and M-21 isn't sure how he ended up falling into Raizel's arms so quickly. Though, he knows the answer to the question just as well. Raizel had _wanted_ this, and there was no way M-21 or anyone could have denied him such a simple thing. There wasn't much they could do for him, after all, so to allow him to comfort them _– something he's doing for their sake_ – is the least they could do.

Eventually, Takeo relaxes enough to curl into Raizel's side. He rests his head on Raizel's slender shoulder, holding onto his arm and goes very, very quiet. He can hear Tao and Frankenstein talking in whispers, probably discussing something entirely mundane, because they both unwind that way. As for M-21, he's trying not to fall asleep, cocooned in the warmth of his family, protected and dare he say, loved. This is what those two share, M-21 realises then, and they had wished to show them too. To give them this gift, because they are _kind_ and because they love M-21 and the rest of them.

Raizel's hand comes to rest atop his head gently, and he can feel Raizel press a soft kiss to his forehead. M-21 shudders a little, choking back the sudden torrent of emotion and presses his face into Raizel's side intently. There's no need to hide anything from Raizel, but still, he does not wish for Raizel to misunderstand. Does not want him to pull away or stop holding M-21. He knows the moment will break sooner or later, but he'd rather if it's _later_.

It takes a while, but the knot inside M-21's chest dissolves – the one he didn't even know was _there_ – and he's able to simply bask in the warmth and love Raizel provides, so freely, so gently. Tao has also gone quiet by now, though he can still pick up Frankenstein murmuring into his ears – maybe he's telling him something outrageous he did in his youth, some experiments that went awry, or something Raizel censured him over, or maybe nothing at all. It hardly matters.

M-21's almost asleep when the moment finally breaks with the ringing of the school bell. They all pull away reluctantly and M-21 feels rather warm in the cheeks, the embarrassment finally catching up with him somewhat. Raizel is _exceedingly_ gorgeous up close, after all. But he's also Frankenstein's, and that's one thing he'll never fight over.

"We," M-21 says, voice a little scratchy. "We should return to our posts. The school's out, so we need to watch the kids leave safely." Takeo nods, fixing his hair and wiping at his face discreetly.

"If you must. I'd asked Rajak and Rael to take over your duties for the day. So if you wish, you can go home and rest," Frankenstein says, ruffling Tao's hair once again before pulling away to clear the table.

"No—" M-21 smiles, unbidden, and pulls at the cuffs of his shirt. "We can't leave our job to those two brothers now, can we? I mean, who knows what Rael would do unsupervised?"

Takeo hides a wince and Tao blanches. "Right," he says, shaking his head to get his hair back under control. "We best get going." He pops the earplugs back in, then bites his lip. "Um, sir," he says, turning to Raizel. "Thank you so much."

Raizel looks caught off-guard for a moment, before a smile lights his face – a rare one. "There is no need to thank us."

They nod and file out of the room, steps and hearts lighter than they have been in a long time, because he's right, of course.


End file.
